Another Horsedreamer's Blues
by Zenobia
Summary: One year after The Real Folk Blues, Faye finds herself stuck on Ganymede. When an old friend makes a surprise appearance, she contemplates taking back to the stars.


_Margerie's dreaming in the middle of the day._

_Tiyuri to win, Perfect Dozen to place._

_Money is the matter that's weighed on her mind._

_Time ticks by her one race at a time._

_She's tryin' to be a good girl _

_And give 'em what they want_

_But Margery's dreaming of horses_

_-- Counting Crows, "Another Horsedreamer's Blues"_

Faye watched her trifecta slip away. She should have been used to the disappointment by now. She certainly didn't expect to win, but she'd been at it so long she couldn't give up now. It didn't disappoint her anymore. She expected to lose. With a sigh of resignation, she flicked the ash off her cigarette and stuffed the losing ticket in her pocket with the rest.

When he walked up behind her, she knew he was there before he said a word. She couldn't have stopped the grin that spread across her face if she'd tried. "Hello, Jet."

"How'd you know it was me?"

Faye turned and leaned lazily against the rail behind her. "Maybe it was your metal arm squeaking." She blew smoke in his face, and he waved it aside, smiling through the haze. It amused her to notice he used his real arm.

"How've you been, Faye?"

"Oh, same as usual." She flung a handful of losing tickets into the air behind her. "Throwing away money I don't have. Hiding from the insurance companies."

"Still bounty hunting?"

She hesitated. "No. I've taken a job as a mutuals clerk. One of a thousand faces in the tiny windows along the stretch. Today's my day off."

"Never known somebody who spent their day off at work."

"How about you, Jet? Still bounty hunting?" She took a long drag off her cigarette.

"I guess. It's not the same as in the old days. Harder to catch bounties single handed."

"As I recall you didn't have much luck when you had extra hands." She realized what she'd said and choked back a grimace but not fast enough that Jet didn't notice.

"No need to apologize. I know what you meant." 

"Who said anything about an apology?"

He laughed and walked to the rail beside her to look out over the track. "I can't believe you've ever been just one of a thousand faces, Faye."

"Jet, was that a compliment?"

He shrugged. "I guess that depends. You're definitely unique. One in a million."

Faye blinked. "Thank you, I think."

"Don't mention it."

Faye found herself in an unusual position - at a loss for words. She turned to face the track with Jet. They were faster at switching out the races these days. The horses were already loading into the gate for the next race. "So, did you bet?" she asked.

"Number three," he said, chin propped on his folded arms. "And you?"

"Lucky seven. Same as always."

Jet didn't say anything. Faye hated the silence. The only things she could think to say to him were the things neither wanted to bring up. 

"I come here a lot," Jet said suddenly. "Whenever I'm in Ganymede. I never expected to find you here, though. Didn't you go back to Earth?"

Faye shook her head. "I tried. There really wasn't anything left there for me."

"I never took Ganymede for your style."

"Well, I wouldn't go back to Mars," she said in a small voice. "Nothing good ever happened there."

"Second that," Jet said, and Faye let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. There it was. It was as close as either would come to mentioning Spike, but it was enough. Faye sunk down between her elbows and leaned almost as low as Jet against the rail. The bell rang, the gate flung open, and the horses broke.

It was a rainy day and a muddy track. The stands were nearly empty, and the cheering was muted at best. Neither Faye nor Jet said another word. Faye watched the horses fly away around the first turn, her ticket clinched to a wad in her fist. Jet looked down at her hand, smiled, and lifted his gaze to follow the horses with her. When they turned into the stretch, the meager crowd came to life. Faye shook her fist, and shouted, "Come on! Come on you miserable sack of dog food, run! Aughhhhhhh!"

"Number three wins again," Jet said, standing to his full height. He straightened his hat. Faye wouldn't look at him. "Sorry, Faye. Maybe next time."

She glowered for a moment, biting her lip as hard as she could before she settled. She turned to face him just in time to see him straighten his fedora and walk away. "Bye, then," she said, but her voice cracked and no sound came out.

(More to come...) 


End file.
